One Night World
by Aqua Alta
Summary: Hitoyo no Sekai.  OneNight World.  He was empty, drained out, vacant.  Nothing but a mere shell.  Yet within his unreal state, he knew something, something he yearned....  All he wanted was to go home.... Nearly Alvisscentric


_**One-Night World; **__**一夜の世界；**__**Hitoyo no Sekai**_

**Author's Note:**

**This is probably the strangest fic I have ever made. Hope you enjoy (bows)!**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own MÄR.**

It had been nearly a month since what happened, since Ginta and Danna-san left MÄR Heaven, since he was also pulled into this world called Earth.

"_The tunnel is opening."_

"_The dice landed on three! Please go through, you three!"_

Monban Pierrot had chosen him, a finger pointing at him, crucially choosing him out of the others, and separating him from the world he knew. He had been thrown into a completely different world, one he had not known about.

At Monban Pierrot's choice, Bell screamed (now he found he was kind of missing that scream, his memories vague, and everything was slipping away from him). The witch…. What was her name again? Dorothy. Yes, Dorothy, wasn't it? She let out a gasp of surprise. Everybody was shocked, surprised, since it was utterly unexpected.

Yet he had to go. Three people had to go, no more or no less (did Ginta forget to make this ÄRM a little bit flexible in rules?). _He _had to go, because he was chosen.

The three of them appeared in a cosy little home, with lots and lots of stuff, things that he knew nothing about, things that somehow terrified him. He was the stranger this time. His complexion never gave away, yet his inside was quavering in anxiety.

He did not belong there.

However, nothing else could be done. Danna-san and Ginta's mother was kind enough to take him in, introducing him to others as Ginta's cousin who just lost his parents. Now he called those two as 'Uncle' and 'Aunt'. It felt foreign to his tongue, yet he did as what he was told without any protests.

He shared a room with Ginta, and watched with fascination as Ginta and the girl Koyuki chatted and joked about (the girl asked all things about MÄR Heaven). Koyuki knew the truth about his real identity, since she could be trusted (that was what Ginta said). He himself did not mind. Or perhaps he did not care.

He was introduced to many things, so many things he thought impossible before. The people were different; the currency was different; the food was different. He found that his new world was nothing like MÄR Heaven at all. It was harsher, crueller in its own way, and people would do nearly anything to survive there. It was a good place to fight, to train the heart of oneself, with plenty to be protected, plenty that yearned for protection, yet he found himself to be vacant of will.

He had nothing to do with this world.

As Alviss made his way through the rain in the busy Tokyo, now a city of multi-coloured parasols, as the rain soaked his whole figureruining his plain shirt, trousers, and sneakers, and even matting down his spiky hair, as he took each agonizing step in the world that was not his home, Alviss realized that he had forgotten about something.

About a world he once loved dearly, about some people he cared the most, about his past before meeting with Ginta's parents.

The memories were disappearing, getting more vague. He quickened his pace, and the quicker they drained away from his mind and heart, causing him to get emptier and emptier steadily, in a hurtful motion. Nobody noticed it, yet as the drenched youth walked to the opposite direction from the moving crowd, against the current, the azure fire within his orbs slowly melted away into two dead orbs of ice.

'_Who am I?'_

'_Where am I?'_

'_What…am I doing here?'_

People. There were lots and lots and lots and lots of people all around him. Yet they were strangers, all foreign to 'him', the 'him' he no longer recognized, but at least it was still 'him'.

He stumbled, not realizing why, and nearly touched the ground if not for a hand, pulling him up by the shoulder.

"Are you all right, Alviss-kun?"

Only one man had ever called him like that. Only one man ever owned that voice, yet the tone was wrong, completely wrong. The sentence was filled with concern, warm concern. And it did not suit the voice. The voice was altered, changed somehow, and no longer the cruel and cold, cold voice he knew, he recognized _somehow_. When did he know this voice? When had he heard it? _'Ah,'_ he thought sombrely, as tears stung the back of his eyeballs, tears shed for the unknown, but not yet, just not yet shed. _'I…have forgotten….'_

The man that had helped him dropped his umbrella to the ground, catching the slipping boy with two hands, supporting him fully; supporting what was left of the boy's consciousness.

The silver hair, the amethyst eyes, and the pale, pale skin….

Hatred. Revenge. Blood. Those three substances were the very first things that sprang back into life within his mind. One name echoed through his dark, muddled brain. Calling out to him, awakening the ability to _sense_ within his confined soul. "…Phantom…," he whispered, clutching the now-wet man's shirt. Yet it was no longer a whisper of death, no longer a whisper that was thirsty of blood. It was a whisper yearning for help, help, helpjust please, _please_, pleads, and tears. The hatred was renewed; the pain was reawakened. Yet Alviss knew something, realized something from his empty state.

And it all summed up into one word before he lost his consciousness.

'_Home….'_

**XXX**

"The taxi driver wasn't pleased, was he?"

"No, Alma," Phantom chuckled, putting on a fresh new shirt. "He was in the most displeased state I have ever seen from a taxi driver." _'No, not Phantom, but Tom…'_

His wife turned at the still-sleeping boy on the sofa of their luxurious apartment. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked, and PhantomTomsensed the concern slipping into the woman's voice. He squeezed her shoulder calmingly. "Do not worry," he whispered. "Alviss is a strong warrior."

Alma turned to face him fully, a worried frown on her face. "But…, he is also from MÄR Heaven, isn't he? The side effects of Monban Pierrot…. If the person passes without his own free will…."

Tom's pale features hardened, and he continued the left-out sentence with the cold, cold tone of Phantom from MÄR Heaven. Uncaring. "He mayjust _may_lose his own identity. An empty shell."

Alma sent Tom a hurt look. She put one soft, soft hand on Tom's shoulder. "If he knows…," she whispered, and the hurt was even more visible on her complexion. "…that people who has died in MÄR Heaven become the residents of this world…. He _has_ to know, Tom. Earth…is not a place for still-living people in MÄR Heaven. Earth residents will be all right if they travel to MÄR Heaven, the world of Lifethey even can get much stronger there, but if it is the opposite, added with the side effects of Monban Pierrot…. He will lose all about his Life, the Life in MÄR Heaven…. We each carry parts of our last Life. Only the two of us can remember about our Life in MÄR Heavenof course aside from Ginta and his father, because…."

Tom placed a gentle kiss on his wife's forehead. "Because we have a rather important unfinished business, right?" he asked softly, smiling.

That was when all lights went off.

**XXX**

It was all dark!

His first thought was he had gone blind, yet somehow his empty, empty soul, his dark, dark heart, received the fact calmly, with a surprising attitude of open arms. He sat up, trying to reorganize his mind, which was nothing more but a jumble of pieces and bits. Dark. It was darkness all around, and he could not help but release a silent, tortured scream as the darkness tore new, fresh bleeding wounds on his already scarred soul, scarred because it is empty, terrified because it was unable to _feel_.

Someone hugged him from his right, the warm hands of a mother, a warmth he had felt once, long ago, somewhere…beyond.

"Do not worry," the person whispered, cradling him as if he had been nothing but a small child, a child yearning for comfort, for love, for _being known_, for _being recognized_, a child who had been torn away from his home…. "Do not worry. It is merely a black out. All the lights are out because there is a problem with the electricity." To his surprise, he nodded, a confused and scared nod, but it was a nod all in all. A sign of understanding.

Someone sat down next to him, on his other side. "Unfortunately, we are out of candles, Alviss-kun," the other person chuckled, and he realized that it was a male. "It's all right. The lamps should be running in several minutes."

Words gathered in his mind, and his dry lips parted, trying to voice a sentence. When it came out at last, he realized that his voice was smothered with fear, fear which he himself could not comprehend. "Who…are you?"

"I am Tom, and that is my wife, Alma," the male spoke, and Alviss noticed the slight amusement trailing within the man's sentence. "We are from MÄR Heaven."

"MÄR Heaven?" he whispered, voice harsh and baffled. Next to him, Alma sighed heavily. "MÄR Heaven?"

His tone changed. It was no longer one of bafflement and confusion, yet longing, pure longing. And within it was the naivety of a lost, lost child, who was long gone and suddenly returned. Alma wrapped her hands around him; Tom squeezed his shoulder. Something about them reminded him of….

Home. As plain and simple as that.

Then suddenly everything returned, going back to him, pieces of jigsaw puzzle flying back to his mind, creating a whole picture. What used to be empty was filled. What used to be dark was now cleared. The fog was lifted, and he was free. Free.

For the very first time since the First War Game, Alviss found himself crying without any bound, without anything to hold him down.

As his tears dropped, he knew he had to say goodbye to this 'home'. He knew he no longer belonged there. But it was okay. Even if it had been nothing but a dream, it was okay.

For once, for the last time, Alviss, the young warrior, knew he was warm and safe at home.

**XXX**

All lamps sprang back to life right when the young boy fell asleep.

Alma stared at the boy sleeping in her arms, marks of tears still visible on his pale, pale cheeks. The boy turned a little, and Alma gently caressed the last tears away. "Shush," she whispered gently, smiling her soft smile, the smile of a loving mother. "Sleep, little one. Just sleep."

From his place, Tom watched his wifetaking care of a complete stranger, yet with the love of a mother to her own child, and he chuckled.

"Perhaps we ought to have a child."

**XXX**

**Err, I know that's strange, rather pointless, OOC, bad, I know, I know (heck, even I feel strange reading it). So, I'll ask for one thing: please, critique and flame me!**

_Aqua Alta_


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